The Beauty of the Lady
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: When Prince Edward wonders what his mother was like, he turns to his older sister Mary.


**The Beauty of the Lady**

"Mary?" The little voice was unsure. Mary looked up, only to see her seven year old brother peering around the door of her private chambers.

"Edward!" Startled, she sprang up, dropping her embroidery as she ran over to him, "Are you all right? Shouldn't you be with your tutors?"

Automatically, her hand went to his forehead, feeling to see if he had a fever. He always sought out her and Bessie if he wasn't feeling well.

"Mary, I'm fine!" he protested, squirming away from her touch. Mary had to chuckle at the vehemence in his tone.

"Sorry, I can't help it. I promised your Mama I'd look after you, that's all."

At her words, her baby brother's face dropped. She froze, alarmed at the pain in his eyes.

"Edward?" she queried gently.

"Master Ascham was teaching me about our family history today, but he wouldn't tell me about my mother. He just told me she'd died when I was born, like everyone else does."

Mary steeled herself. She knew where this conversation was leading. Yet, because she wanted to give her brother a chance to ask her himself, she kept her voice soft as she replied, "In terms of history, that's all you need to know, Edward. She died giving our father what he wanted most. You. You're the most important child in England and you need to know that, but not how she died. Trust me, Edward, to know how she died would give you nightmares. You can find that out when you're older and stronger."

"But I don't want to know how she died! I want to know what she was like! Everyone else knows what she was like and I don't! I don't know and it's not fair!"

"Oh Edward! My darling! My darling, darling brother," Mary knelt down beside her baby brother, scooping him into her arms before his tears could spill over. She signed to Susan to take the other ladies out of the room and then sat down on a stool by the fireplace, balancing him on her knee with her arms draped loosely around his middle.

"Well, let's start with what she looked like, shall we? You've got her picture, haven't you?"

"Yes. She had blonde hair and big blue eyes."

"That's right. And skin as white as milk. Papa used to call her his 'milk of human kindness' and his Guinevere, because she looked just like Guinevere does in all the Arthur tales, and because she loved him just as much as Guinevere loves Lancelot."

"And he loved her."

"Yes. He loved her so much, Edward. So much. He loved her so much, he wasn't even angry with her for bringing Bessie back to Court after what her mother had done to him."

"Bessie's mother?"

"Yes, Lady Anne."

"What did she do that was so wrong?"

"She loved someone who wasn't Papa."

"But how can anyone not love Papa? He's wonderful!"

Faced with the innocent question of a seven year old who adored his father beyond all measure; who'd never seen the brutal side of their father, all Mary could do was sigh. How could she explain this one to Edward? How could she break the rose-tinted glasses through which he viewed their father, when all he'd ever been to Edward was the perfect father; the father he had indeed been to her when she'd been seven years old and his beloved Pearl of the World?

Mary struggled with the question for so long that Edward began to shuffle impatiently on her lap. "Mary, come on! I'm waiting!"

Exhaling slowly, she eventually decided to evade the question altogether, "Grown men and women can be very complicated, Edward. That's all you need to know for now. Anyway, your Mama brought Bessie back to Court, and aren't you pleased she did, because now you can play with Bessie whenever you like, can't you, hmm?"

"Oh yes! But was Mama really that kind?"

"She was kinder than that, Edward. She was kinder than words can ever tell you. And she loved you so much; so much she was willing to give her life for you, so you could come to Earth and be Papa's Prince of Wales and make everybody happy just by being you. That's how selfless she was; that she would die in order to let you live."

"But she didn't die straight after I was born, did she?"

"No. She lived to see you christened and I promise you, it was the proudest day of her life."

Mary ruffled her brother's hair gently, smiling, "It was the proudest day of my life as well, being allowed to hold my little brother at the font and keep you still as Cranmer poured the water over your head. You behaved so well. Except for when the water went over your head, you didn't cry once, as though you already knew you were a Prince."

"Really?"

"Really."

Mary fell silent for a moment, lost in her memories, only jolted out of them when Edward whispered, "What happened when she died?"

Tears came to Mary's eyes and she was hard-pressed to keep them from falling as she answered, "Everything went black. Everything. Papa disappeared into his room. No one saw him for months. No one knew what to do. A lot was up to me, as Papa's oldest daughter. I had to control the Court and look after you and Bessie, all at once."

"Look after me? Didn't Lady Bryan do that? I know Bessie lived with you, but didn't Lady Bryan look after me?"

"She was supposed to," Mary laughed shakily, "But you didn't like her back then."

"I didn't?"

"No. I think you knew she wasn't your Mama. You wouldn't settle for her. You used to scream and scream and scream until you were sick. She couldn't understand it. She'd taken care of so many children and you were the only one who never went to sleep for her. I remember she was so worried in case Papa found out and she got into trouble for not taking proper care of you."

"So what did you do?"

"I used to put you to sleep instead of Lady Bryan, like Bessie does now. I used to sit in your room underneath the picture of your Mama so you could see her and I'd sing to you. Sing to you quietly, rocking you gently, like this," Mary rocked her brother to and fro slightly in her arms, "I'd do that and you'd fall asleep in minutes. I think you knew when your Mama and I were with you. You knew how much we loved you, even then. You knew and you knew it meant it was safe for you to go to sleep."

Bending her head, Mary kissed her little brother's forehead. He sighed and snuggled into her.

"Sing for me, Mary, please. Sing for me like you used to."

"Gladly."

Tightening her hold on her brother, Mary shifted in her seat and then began crooning the same Castilian lullaby she had always sung to him – the same one her mother had always sung to her when she was little and unable to sleep. She hadn't sung it in years and her grasp of the tune was nowhere near as complete as it had once been, but that didn't seem to matter to him. Just as he had done when he was a baby, he melted in her hold and let his eyes flicker shut. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Realising it, Mary broke off her song and pressed another light kiss to his temple.

"Sleep my brother. Sleep and dream of the beauty of the Lady who made us all so happy by bringing us you. Sleep and dream of your mother. God bless her. God bless you both."


End file.
